Posts tagged aaknopf

Gettysburg: The Last Invasion, by Allen C. Guelzo (Knopf, 2013) 

21 plays

The title poem of Garrett Hongo’s third collection tells of his Japanese great-grandparents, immigrants to Hawaii who became contract laborers along the North Shore of O`ahu. Here they are on the run under the moonlight, trekking from one plantation to another, as Hongo considers the difficulty of honoring their memory.

Coral Road

I keep wanting to go back, across an ocean, blue-gray and uncaring,
White cowlicks of waves at the continental shore, then the midsea combers
Like white centipedes far below the jetliner that takes me there.
And across time too, to 1919 and my ancestors fleeing Waialua Plantation,
Trekking across the northern coast of O’ahu, that whole family
                                                              of first Shigemitsu
Walking in geta and sandals along railroad ties and old roads at night,
Sleeping in the bushes by day, ha’alelehana—runaways
From the labor contract with Baldwin or American Factors.

My grandmother, ten at the time, hauling an infant brother on her back,
Said there was a white coral road in those days, pieces of crushed reef
Poured like gravel over the brown dirt, and, at night, with the moon up,
As it was those nights during their flight, silver shadows on the sea,
It lit their path like a roadway made of dust from the Ocean of Clouds.
Michiyuki is what they called it, the Moon Road from Waialua to Kahuku.

There is little to tell and few enough to tell it to—
A small circle of relatives gathered for reunion
At some beach barbecue or Elks Club veranda in Waikiki
All of us having survived that plantation sullenness
And two generations of labor in the sugar fields,
Having shed most all memory of travail and the shame of upbringing
In the clapboard shotguns of ancestral poverty.

                                               Who else would even listen?
Where is the Virgil who might lead me through the shallow underworld of this history?
And what demiurge can I say called to them, loveless ones,
               through twelve-score stands of cane
Chittering like small birds, nocturnal harpies in the feral constancies of wind?

All is diffuse, like knowledge at dusk, a veiled shimmer in the sea
As schools of baitfish boil and revolve in their iridescent globes,
Turning to the olive dark and the drop-off back to depth below,
Where they shiver like silver penitents—a cloud of thin, summer moths—
While rains chill the air and pockmark the surface of the sands at Sans Souci,
And we scatter back inside to a humble Chinese buffet and cool sushi
Spread on Melamine platters on a starched white ribbon of shining cloth.

Learn more about Garrett Hongo and Coral Road

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Ruth Padel is the great-great-granddaughter of Charles Darwin, to whom she gives a living voice in Darwin: A Life in Poems. The childhood poem below is from the period just following the loss of Darwin’s mother, in 1817, when he was eight. In an epigraph to the poem – intimate and informative, as are all the notes and quotations which flank Padel’s verses, and augment our understanding – she quotes Charles’s sister Caroline, who said of him, “He does not seem to have known half how much our father loved him.”
Stealing the Affection of Dogs  Bits of the world blow towards him and come apart        on the wind. He invents. He lies. ‘I had a passion for dogs. They seemed to know.        I was adept in robbing their masters of their love.’ He steals apples from the orchard, gives them to boys        in a cottage and tells them to watch how fast he runs. He climbs a beech by the wall of the locked kitchen garden        and dreams himself into the inner gloss of raspberry canes. A forest, glowing in its net.        Emerald coal in a watchman’s brazier. He straddles the coping, fits a stick in the hole at the foot        of a flower-pot, and pulls. Peaches and plums fall in. Enough to have begun an orchard of his own.        My father’s. Valuable. The words hang in the trees when the soft blobs are gone. He hides his loot        in shrubbery and runs to tell: he has found a hoard of stolen fruit!
Learn more about Ruth Padel’s Darwin: A Life in Poems
To share the poem-a-day experience with friends, pass along this link »

Ruth Padel is the great-great-granddaughter of Charles Darwin, to whom she gives a living voice in Darwin: A Life in Poems. The childhood poem below is from the period just following the loss of Darwin’s mother, in 1817, when he was eight. In an epigraph to the poem – intimate and informative, as are all the notes and quotations which flank Padel’s verses, and augment our understanding – she quotes Charles’s sister Caroline, who said of him, “He does not seem to have known half how much our father loved him.”

Stealing the Affection of Dogs
Bits of the world blow towards him and come apart
       on the wind. He invents. He lies.
‘I had a passion for dogs. They seemed to know.
       I was adept in robbing their masters of their love.’
He steals apples from the orchard, gives them to boys
       in a cottage and tells them to watch how fast he runs.
He climbs a beech by the wall of the locked kitchen garden
       and dreams himself into the inner gloss
of raspberry canes. A forest, glowing in its net.
       Emerald coal in a watchman’s brazier.
He straddles the coping, fits a stick in the hole at the foot
       of a flower-pot, and pulls. Peaches and plums
fall in. Enough to have begun an orchard of his own.
       My father’s. Valuable. The words hang in the trees
when the soft blobs are gone. He hides his loot
       in shrubbery and runs to tell:
he has found a hoard of stolen fruit!

Learn more about Ruth Padel’s Darwin: A Life in Poems

To share the poem-a-day experience with friends, pass along this link »

In The Supremes at Earl’s All-You-Can-Eat, three Indiana teens — nicknamed the Supremes by the owner of their favorite hang in the hometown they never leave — bond in 1967 and are still tight decades on, after life has taken a sizable bite out of each of them. Sure, tales of longtime BFFs overflow many a nightstand. But in his kindhearted debut, Moore (can it be called chick lit if a man wrote it?) shows a seasoned ease with his funny, damaged subjects, including the tipsy ghost of Eleanor Roosevelt. You’ll be casting the movie by the second chapter.

Q: When and how did you first get the idea for this novel?

Roger Hobbs, author of Ghostman: “I first got this idea the summer between my sophomore and junior years of college. I was walking home late one night after a movie when I stumbled across an armored car depot. Now, this doesn’t look like you think it should—it doesn’t have thick brick walls, rows of security cameras or a bunch of security guards sitting around playing poker. No, it looks like an office building with a bunch of armored cars parked out front.

Being naturally curious, I thought I’d have a look. I walked around for a bit and after a while, finally worked up the nerve to touch one. As soon as I did, I felt like I was struck by lightning. Instantly my brain was full of different ideas about how I could rob it. I must have spent an hour out there in the dark, examining every part of that car. I noted all the features and considered all the weaknesses. That night I went home and wrote the first chapter of GHOSTMAN.”

Read more from our conversation with Roger here

Carole Baron just stopped by my desk and made my day with one of the earliest finished copies of Edward Kelsey Moore’s The Supreme’s at Earl’s All-You-Can-Eat. 
Edward has been a favorite here since we acquired The Supremes, which is his debut novel. He is a cellist, an NPR contributor, and a part-time gardner; he is a man of great humor who has taken some of the fondest memories of his own childhood and spun them into his debut novel, which follows three women - Odette, Clarice, and Barbara Jean - through four decades of friendship, marriage, children, and the blues. I know when this book comes out in March you’re going to fall in love them The Supremes (and Edward, too).  

Carole Baron just stopped by my desk and made my day with one of the earliest finished copies of Edward Kelsey Moore’s The Supreme’s at Earl’s All-You-Can-Eat

Edward has been a favorite here since we acquired The Supremes, which is his debut novel. He is a cellist, an NPR contributor, and a part-time gardner; he is a man of great humor who has taken some of the fondest memories of his own childhood and spun them into his debut novel, which follows three women - Odette, Clarice, and Barbara Jean - through four decades of friendship, marriage, children, and the blues. I know when this book comes out in March you’re going to fall in love them The Supremes (and Edward, too).  

Let the production meeting start up: 
I throw deckle edge on the omnibus 
I authorize an extra color photo spread
You know as long as we here, print ain’t ever dead.

Let the production meeting start up: 

I throw deckle edge on the omnibus 

I authorize an extra color photo spread

You know as long as we here, print ain’t ever dead.

Aw hey thanks Barnes & Noble for picking Wild by Cheryl Strayed as a Finalist for the 2012 Discover Award in Nonfiction. 

Aw hey thanks Barnes & Noble for picking Wild by Cheryl Strayed as a Finalist for the 2012 Discover Award in Nonfiction

notesfromtheroughfront:

Spine Poetry created with newest batch of new titles to arrive.
Vera Gran with An Enlarged Heartis Facing The Wave during Benedictionin A Week in Winter
by Romeo E.

notesfromtheroughfront:

Spine Poetry created with newest batch of new titles to arrive.

Vera Gran with An Enlarged Heart
is Facing The Wave during Benediction
in A Week in Winter

by Romeo E.

notesfromtheroughfront:

Today was a great day for new books to arrive. Love the new book smell!
Fun Facts: Chip Kidd designed the jacket on the right and Archie Ferguson designed on the left.

notesfromtheroughfront:

Today was a great day for new books to arrive. Love the new book smell!

Fun Facts: Chip Kidd designed the jacket on the right and Archie Ferguson designed on the left.